


You're in the Band!

by nightdreamers



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Band, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bassist Hunk, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gay Keith (Voltron), Guitarist Keith, Humor, Idek what to call Pidge, It's kind of self explanatory you'll see, Lesbian Allura (Voltron), M/M, Platonic Relationships, Singer! Lance, Voltron is a band and Lotor is a rival band (later on), ace pidge, klance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-01-26 03:53:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12548244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightdreamers/pseuds/nightdreamers
Summary: GUITARIST NEEDED!Join VOLTRON, an upcoming band who’s looking for YOU!Lance McClain didn't know what to expect the day of auditions for the newest band member of Voltron. But he certainly wasn't expecting Keith Kogane, an enigmatic boy and his guitar, nor was he expecting to fall this hard for him.





	1. Prologue (or where Keith shows up)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys! thanks sm for clicking on this!  
> i dont really have anything else to say so,,  
> enjoy!

“Okay, Pidge, give it to me one more time. What exactly am I looking for here?”

The Sam Ash was quiet, as any music store would be on an idle Tuesday afternoon. The only sounds filling the space were the quiet improvisations of some employee on a guitar and the chatter of two older woman, debating over what type of ukulele to buy their hipster daughter. Not that he was eavesdropping, or anything.

“It’s called an instrument cable, it’s a cable for instruments, 20 or 24 gauge. It’s a fundamental and _very_ basic piece of equipment,” came the voice on the other line.

“No need to be harsh, I’m just trying to not buy the wrong thing,” Lance said, pursing his lips in thought as he scanned the store. He ran his fingers over a few amps, pausing to look at a smaller one. “Hey, do we need a mini amp?”

“What? No, why would we need a mini amp? We have a Hunk who can carry normal size amps.”

“Just asking,” he muttered, spotting the cables in a corner of the store. Lance looked up, twisting around to try and get the attention of the guitar-playing employee. “Excuse me?” He called, holding the phone away from his ear. The guy, who could be anywhere between thirteen and thirty, looked up, putting the guitar onto it’s stand and walking over.

“Can I help you?” He asked, a scowl across his face.

“Yeah, which one of these is 20 gauge?” The employee picked one off the shelf and handed it to Lance, then walked away without a word. “Thank you!”

Well somebody’s not having a good day.

He eyed the cable in hand, trying to check for a price tag.

“Lance! Lance!” The voice from his phone shouted, he raised it back to his ear. “Did you get it?”

“Yeah, the one with the picture of the guitar on it, right?”

“That would be it. Now haul ass out of there, ask if you can put up a poster too.”

Lance slid his backpack over his shoulder, unzipping it. “Okay, later, nerd.”

“See you, loser.” _Click_ , Pidge had hung up. Lance tucked his phone away, reaching into his backpack and pulling out the wrinkled sheet of paper. “Uh, hello?” He called out to the employee again. “Can I put a poster up in here?” The employee glanced back at Lance with a small nod.

The bulletin board of the store was sad, to say the least. A few glossy sheets with ads for music lessons or new bands playing in town, and thankfully no “MUSICIAN NEEDED” ones. Lance grabbed his paper and a tack, pinning it dead smack in the center.

GUITARIST NEEDED

For original pop-rock mix band

Join  VOLTRON, an upcoming band who’s looking for YOU!

Applicants must:

-Have their own giggable gear

-Be over 18

-Play guitar (well)

-Commit to practices and performances

Come to Garrison Rehearsal Studios

April 24th

11:00AM-8:00PM

CALL 212-883-6572 FOR MORE INFORMATION

 

* * *

 

 

Lance loved the city.

Actually, that was the understatement of the year.

Lance _lived_ for the city.

The crowds, the buildings, the weird smell of smoke and meat everywhere, it was all so _amazing_ to him. Lance was in an empire state of mind, _wait_ , that was a pretty good line. “Empire state of mind,” has anyone ever said that before. Probably not, right? He pulls out his phone and-

_HONK HONK_

“Hey, asshole! Get out of the middle of the fuckin’ street!”

Well, not _everything_ was amazing.

Lance had stopped in the road to write the spontaneous lyric down. All the honking and yelling was coming from a large man, leaning out of his truck.

“You have a nice day too!” Lance shouted back at the stranger, running over to the sidewalk. He pulled out his phone once more. Shit, what was the lyric again? This was why he needed to stop in the middle of the street to write, the “notes” app was his most valuable possession. Oh, well. He was about to tuck his phone into his pocket when he felt it buzz with a message.

 

3 UNREAD MESSAGES

_Hunky Hunk_

(12:08PM) Can you please bring Pidge some coffee?

(12:08PM) Shes cranky

(12:09PM) And bring me a frappy please

 

After shooting Hunk a quick response, Lance was on his way.

Garrison Recording Studios (or simply, the Garrison) was an interesting spot. It was cheap and came soundproofed, but the owner of the establishment was, in the nicest way Lance could put it, a dick.

“McClain, I need your dues by Friday, don’t forget it this time,” Iverson (the dick) said as Lance passed him. He was fumbling with his mailbox, trying to reposition the key and open it up.

“Sir, yes, sir,” Lance said, turning back to give the older man a soldier’s salute. He headed towards the elevator, going down to the basement level. Although the Garrison was advertised as a rehearsal studio space, it was really just four rooms beneath an apartment complex. There were different bands and musicians filtering in all day, since the rooms rented by the hour. However, Lance had managed to strike a deal with Iverson to let the members of Voltron pay for the week instead. It helped, since they spent more time than anyone in the space, and a weekly pay had made the space much cheaper. He took the elevator down, holding a cardboard cup holder filled with coffee in one hand, and scrolling on his phone with the other.

_Shit, where’s your key?_

Lance tried to reach his arm back into his bag to grab the key, thinking that it was probably beneath the layer of random items he kept in there. After a futile attempt to unzip the backpack while still holding his phone, Lance simply knocked on the door instead.

“Did you bring coffee?” A voice yelled from inside, Pidge. The door was always locked, to prevent any unwanted intrusions (there were always lone musicians that wanted to come in for a “jam sesh,” and they always sucked).

“Yes, I brought coffee. Can you let me in?” He balanced the drinks in one hand, the other resting on his hip impatiently. The door opened slightly, revealing a sliver of Pidge’s face.

“Password?” She asked, eyes narrowed.

He groaned, rolling his eyes. “Lance is a twink.”

Pidge opened the door, taking the tray of coffees from him.

Behind her was the rehearsal space, a decently sized room that looked smaller since it was packed with gear and microphones and minifridges (three of them was cheaper than one regular fridge). Hunk was set up at his usual spot, sitting atop an amp while messing around on his bass. He had his own, personal device that could hook up to the instrument and headphones, so he could play just to himself. Opposite him was Pidge’s corner, packed with all the techy music stuff that Lance would never understand. There was no drummer or keyboardist, (keyboardist? Keyboarder? He’d never know) only Pidge. She worked a launchpad, and had quite a few of them set up. With those, she simply sampled all different sounds and could play them out using the buttons instead. She also used them for sound effects, such as playing “mmm whatcha say” every time someone messed up. Center, was the microphone, and there were a few beanbag chairs against the wall (with the minifridges), where occasionally, one of the members would crash. It was cramped, cluttered, and a little gross, but to Lance, it was one of the best places on Earth.

“Did you put up the rest of the posters?” Pidge asked, pulling out her coffee from the tray.

Lance dropped his bag onto the ground, locking the door behind him. “Well, I tried. I still have a few, but I doubt that they’ll make much of a difference.” He kneeled down, pulling out the cable and tossing it in her direction.

“Well, extra publicity couldn’t hurt,” Hunk said from his spot, pulling his headphones down to rest around his neck.

“ _Psh_ , we don’t need extra publicity. I bet you half the guitarists in the city are gonna come audition tomorrow!” Lance asserts, throwing out an arm for dramatic effect.

“Not if they don’t know that auditions are happening,” Hunk replied, reaching out a hand as Pidge handed him a frappucino. “And how are we supposed to know-” he took a sip. “-that any of them are good?”

“I wrote that they needed to play well on the poster,” Pidge murmured, sipping her own drink.

“Look, no one will compare to Kaltenecker-” Lance began.

“Kaltenecker sucked,” Pidge cut him off.

Lance gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. “Kaltenecker was the best guitarist that this band has and will ever see!”

“Then why did we kick him out?” Hunk asked, folding his arms on top of his instrument.

“Because he sucked at guitar, but his heart was in the right place, you know?”

“He didn’t suck that much,” Pidge chimed in, trying to set up the guitar amp that hadn’t been used since they’d lost the aforementioned member of Voltron. “I think that he purposely thwarted us because you called him Kaltenecker.”

“Why wouldn’t I call him that? If my last name was something like Kaltenecker, I’d go by it,” Lance said defensively,

“Dude, he asked you not to call him that,” Hunk said.

“Whatever,” Lance dismissed him, waving a hand. “It doesn’t matter, because we are gonna find the best guitarist ever, and they’ll be so much better than him anyway. So, I kinda did us all a favor.”

“Don’t get your hopes up, Lance. We don’t know how many people are gonna show,” Pidge said, now on top of the amp to try and find the outlet behind it.

Hunk straightened up, brows knitting together in concern. “You think no one’s gonna show up?”

“I don’t think that no one’s gonna show up, I just don’t think a lot of people will show up. Big difference. I mean, come on. Who wants to join a band with a name like Voltron?”

 

* * *

 

Twelve people.

Twelve people would want to join.

It was a good number, Lance wasn’t sure what he’d expected anyway. They’d all come in at different times, staying for no more than a half hour. For each audition, the group would play all together, just to see if the guitarist could follow along. If they could, then they would be asked to perform their own solo piece to show off.

It definitely wasn’t as fun as Lance thought it would be. Waiting around all day for people to come in, and then having to go through the same generic audition, fake a smile and say that they’d hear back soon, when most of them wouldn’t. Hunk was in and out, grabbing snacks for the band. Pidge was trying to see if she could make a song that solely consisted of audio files with Lance shouting. Lance was writing, propped up on a beanbag with his notebook and pencil in hand.

They’d all perk up when someone came in (yes, they left the door unlocked for once) and then go through the process, Lance taking notes on his phone.

His notes speak for themselves.

 

  1. stoner guy



\- too high to function, but good at guitar

\- a little too into psychedelic rock

  1. old dude



\- could be my dad

\- came on his lunch break from his office day job

\- meh

  1. high school dropout



\- looked 12

\- mom probably dropped them off

  1. pretty girl #1



\- pretty

\- only knew acoustic guitar

\- old taylor swift vibe

  1. really sucky person



\- this one was painful to listen to

  1. wannabe art hoe



\- brought her uke

\- really annoying??? gave us all flowers though

  1. pretty girl #2



\- also pretty

\- not good at guitar

  1. hardcore metal chick w mohawk



\- very very scary

  1. super talented douchebag



\- he was so good but he was such a dick

\- talked about how being in a band could get him a lot of "puss"

  1. another old dude



\- straight outta the retirement home

  1. pretty girl #3



\- may actually call back

\- for a date, not for the band

\- that would be an awkward date

  1. keith kogane



 

There was something about number twelve, just the way he walked in, that made Lance sit up in his seat a little bit. He poked his head through the doorway first, a mess of black hair popping out with him.

“Is this the guitarist auditions?” He asked, his voice low with a slight rasp to it.

“Yeah, come on in, man,” Hunk responded, putting his slice of pizza into the mini fridge and standing up.

Number twelve stepped inside shyly, tucking a dark piece of hair behind his ear. Lance had to fight back the urge to reach out and touch it, because damn his hair looked so nice. Even if it was a bit of a mullet.

“I’m Keith. Keith Kogane,” he introduced, putting his guitar case on the ground. It was covered in stickers, ranging from band logos to zip codes to the ones you’d pick up at a doctor’s office. Lance leaned forward to catch a better look as Keith bent down ( _damn_ ) to pick up his guitar. This was the first sign that he was a good musician, the way he handled his instrument. It was clearly top quality, a reddish-brown glossy finish to it, with a simple shape, and a plain, black strap attached to it. This was an old guitar that looked brand new, Keith had to have taken excellent care of it. “Do you have something I can plug into?”

Pidge stepped over to him, handing him one end of the cable Lance had bought earlier. “Try this,” she said. Keith did as told, plucking out a few notes on the guitar to make sure it worked. Lance got up now, walking over to the group.

“Well, Keith, Keith Kogane, I’m Lance, that’s Pidge, and this is Hunk.” Pidge offered a small peace sign, while Hunk shot a big smile. “But, tell us about you. How long have you been playing guitar?”

“Uh, forever, I guess. I’ve never really been in a band or anything, though. This is sort of a first.”

“Really?” Hunk asked, stepping closer to better inspect Keith’s guitar. Keith simply pulled the strap over himself, letting the other run his fingers along the instrument.

“Yeah, used to do classical guitar back in school,” Keith said. Lance noticed how he shifted back a bit from Hunk, obviously nervous. It was kinda cute, actually. In fact, this guy was pretty cute. Not usually his type, considering the piercings lining his ears, or his entirely black, and far-too-layered-for-spring outfit, but still very cute. And the way he looked back to Lance, with eyes that were a remarkable, almost violet color, made his toes curl a bit.

“And your star sign?” Lance asked, deciding to try out some of his charms on the other. Couldn’t hurt to see if he was interested, right?

Keith quirked a brow. “Uh, Scorpio. Why does that matter?”

“Just curious." _He's a water sign, you're a fire sign. It's fate._ Lance stood, dropping his writing notebook and stepping over. "So, you wanna jam for a bit? See how we all play together?

“Yeah, sure.”

They played through some old Fall Out Boy song, simply trying to see if Keith could keep up with the group. It was mostly just chords, a little bit of fretwork, but otherwise simple.

Keith was perfect, which wasn’t really unexpected. Lance was really paying attention to the face he made while he played, brows furrowed with his lips pressed together tightly. He looked so concentrated, but there was a softness in his eyes that made him seem so at peace. He was meant to play the guitar, it was obvious.

“That was awesome, man!” Hunk had bellowed once they were done, giving Keith a slap on the back. “Seriously, you rock!”

Keith smiled softly, rolling his shoulders back. He was lucky Hunk didn’t pull him into a hug instead. “Uh, thanks.”

“Are you secretly a rockstar trying to check out the new scene?” Pidge asked, leaning over her launchpad, resting her head in her hand. "'Cause you're really good. Seriously. How about you show off a bit?" Keith turned back to her and shrugged, then nodded. The members all headed to the bean bags, leaving the dark haired boy alone, in the center of the room. Lance wished they had the budget to get a spotlight, although all of his attention was already on Keith.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he said, leaning back in the bean bag.

Lance thought Keith was good playing along with the band. But soloing was a whole other story. The song began simple, background chords as Keith plucked out a melody on top. It sounded like something older, a classic rock hit. Lance was never a big fan, but he could be one if they all sounded like this .

As the song progressed, so did Keith’s playing. Soon, he was nodding his head along to the beat, completely absorbed into his solo.

This was the guitarist they were looking for. Someone who could feel the music, who didn’t just play, but had songs pour out from them. Lance was completely mesmerized, unable to take his eyes away from the other’s hands, moving so quickly and expertly strumming out each note. It was incredible, and it was _real_ music.

After a few minutes, Keith stopped, brushing his hair back and looking towards the others. Everyone was quiet as Hunk, Pidge, and Lance all exchanged expressions of awe, then turned back to him. “Uh, we’ll definitely be in touch, yeah. Text the number from the poster,” Lance had said, standing. He was smiling widely, unable to stop himself.

“Okay. Thanks, guys,” Keith said, putting his guitar back in his case. With that, he was gone, giving them a little wave before heading out the door.

It was a bit awkward, but Lance didn’t exactly know how to just say; “Hey, the way you just played probably changed my life. I don’t think this band is good enough for you, please join us?”

“I thought he was pretty good,” Hunk said, pulling out the slice of pizza from earlier.

“Yeah, pretty good,” Lance said, still facing the door.

“So,” Pidge began. “Do you guys wanna hear this beat that’s just Lance screaming?”

The day ended how it always did, at _Casa Del Hance_ , AKA Hunk and Lance’s shared apartment. The two roomed together in college, so it just seemed fit for them to continue doing so afterword. Pidge usually hung out there too, despite having her own apartment. However, hers was tiny, so all major band meetings were held in _Casa Del Hance_ .

“I liked the old dude,” Hunk announced, standing in the kitchen. “He was old, but he was good.”

“We have an image to uphold, we can’t have any old guys in our band. Speaking of image,” Pidge said, sitting on the couch and scrolling on her phone. “Twitter caught wind that Kaltenecker's out and is freaking out over if this will change when the album comes out.”

“Tell them that we don’t know and that we love them,” Hunk replied, walking over to the couch will a bowl of chips in hand. “Works for me.” He sat down beside Lance, who had been completely silent the entire time. “Buddy, you got any thoughts to share? You’ve been pretty quiet.”

“I think we should pick Keith,” he said simply, looking over to the others. The boy had been stuck in his mind all day, him and that song he had played. No matter what he did, he could never get them out of his head. But, he was starting to think that wasn’t such a bad thing.

“The emo guy?” Pidge scoffed. “He was so... emo. Why would we want him?”

“Do you need to ask? He was the best guitarist that came today. He’s the best guitarist I’ve ever seen in my life!” Lance was growing in volume, sitting up.

“That’s true,” Hunk said, nodding along. “Plus, a bad boy is usually a staple in any successful band, right?”

“Right!” Lance exclaimed, his smile from earlier returning.

“I guess he seemed pretty cool. And he played along well,” Pidge hummed, putting her phone down.

“Plus his guitar was sick!” Hunk said, getting excited.

“I think he’s the obvious choice,” Lance said.”

“Yeah, me too,” Pidge agreed.

“So then it’s settled,” Lance said. “Keith Kogane, you’re in the band.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if anyone was wondering, which they're prob not but anyway; I did post this fic before but I couldn't edit the chapter for some weird reason so I just reposted it. Also; if you're here and you're wondering why I'm posting this and not Gym Friends- sorry!!! I just can't get into the right space to write a really angsty chapter so instead I just wanted to write something cute
> 
> anyways, comments kudos and criticism are all appreciated so much! thank you!


	2. Chapter One (or where the story actually starts)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An awkward interaction featuring brief cameos by characters other than Lance and Keith.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys! sorry this chapter took forever, its been a pretty rough few weeks for me but seeing people comment or give kudos has seriously helped, so thanks for that!
> 
> I should probably mention that there's a super super brief alcohol/drug use mention in this (literally two words).
> 
> Um, not sure what else to say here, but I hope you guys enjoy!

It had been a month and Lance still didn’t know anything about Keith.

The band met up at least twice a week, usually three times, for a few hours. So, it was safe to say that all of the members were pretty close. When it came to Hunk and Pidge that was true, Hunk was basically family and Pidge knew everything there is know about Lance. But Keith might as well have been on a different planet. In fact, Keith went out of his way just to make sure that his private life was confidential. Every one of Lance’s attempts to learn more about him (“When did you get that guitar?” “Have you always lived in New York?” “What shampoo do you use?”) were shot down with some vague response and a shrug. 

Keith had become such a mystery to him that Lance started a new note on his phone, titled “THINGS I KNOW ABT KEITH”

 

1: hes a guitar god and were not worthy of him

2: he travels a lot (stickers on his guitar case from weird places)

3: likes pidge more than me

 

Number three really got Lance heated. Although inside she was a softie, Pidge was snarky, sarcastic, and cynical, not exactly the “friendly” type.

Eyeing the other two from his spot at the minifridge stack, Lance was practically fuming while he eavesdropped on some argument Keith and Pidge were having.

“...but it’s just people shooting at each other for ten movies!”

“What? You can’t just simplify it like that!”

“Star Trek takes place in the future, they have  _ women _ in  _ power _ ! It’s showing what humanity can do!”

“Star Wars is an entire other universe with complex history that  _ makes logical sense _ -”

“Jar Jar fucking Binks!”

“Guys! Guys,” Hunk said, stepping between the two and placing a hand on either’s shoulder. “I understand that being huge nerds is really important to you, but please, stop arguing. Star Trek is science fiction and Star Wars is fantasy, you can’t compare the two.”

 

4: keith prefers star wars over star trek

 

Keith stepped away from Pidge, who just stuck her tongue out at him. They did this almost every rehearsal, come in either gabbing over something weird or fighting over something weirder. Ever since Keith volunteered to escort Pidge to her apartment after a late-night practice, the two were always  _ bonding _ , and the sight made Lance want to gag.

Not that he was jealous, or anything. That’s stupid. He didn’t even know Keith! Why would he be upset that the guitarist liked Pidge more than him?

“Um,” Lance cleared his throat, putting his drink back into the minifridge and stepping over. “Not that  _ this _ -” he gestured to the three. “-isn’t important, but can we rehearse? That thing that people usually do when they’re in a rehearsal?”

After some affirmations, everyone had moved into their spots. Keith either stood between Lance and Hunk or against the back wall during rehearsals, never showing interest in claiming a space for himself. It kind of made Lance uneasy, like Keith would just leave at any moment, because if he was gone there wouldn’t be anything to even show that he was in Voltron. Which is why Lance tried to have him learn the whole album and be ready to record in a month. Thanks to his un-fucking-believable talent, Keith was ready, as was the rest of the band.

“I think we should just play through the whole album, make sure it’s perfect, no stopping,” Pidge suggested, simultaneously typing out something on her laptop.

Hunk nodded, responding, “If we’re all good, we should record later this week. Album out as soon as possible.”

“Can we even call it an album?” Asked Keith, not looking up from his guitar tuning. This caught Lance’s attention,  _ Keith voicing his opinion?  _ He usually put in his two cents about chord suggestions or timing, but never actual band stuff (another thing that made Lance uneasy; He was unsure if the guitarist really cared about the band). Keith clearly picked up on Lance’s surprise, looking at the other and straightening up. “I mean, it’s really an EP. There’s only seven songs.”

“Officially, it’s an EP, yeah, but it  _ would _ be an album if we could pay for that much recording time,” Pidge replied.

Lance rolled his eyes, grabbing the mic. “Guys, EP, album, it doesn’t matter. Let’s just play!”

 

It took a few tries, but they managed to play all the way through, perfectly. The album (well, EP) was just comprised of the band member’s favorite songs out of the dozens they’d written, so it had actually been finished for months. All they’d needed was a guitarist (check) and an actual recording (soon-to-be check).

And they sounded  _ great _ . As great as they could, at least, in the recording they would layer on more sounds and then sound  _ awesome _ .

“Guys, this is gonna sound  _ awesome _ !” Lance said once they had dispersed. There were a few positive affirmations from the group, who seemed to all be in a hurry. “Should we go out? Celebrate? Get drunk and watch bad movies? Get high and watch bad movies?”

Pidge tucked her laptop into her backpack, then made a beeline for the door. “Love to, but I am late for my shift, later!” 

Lance’s grin faltered,  _ since when did Pidge get a job?  _ He turned his attention over to Hunk, texting on his phone.

“Hunk? Buddy?”

The bassist looked up, quickly shoving his phone away. “See, uh, I kinda have plans. Plans with this girl-“

“YOU’RE GOING ON A DATE?” Lance shouted, dropping his backpack and rushing to Hunk. “Is it with Shay? It’s totally with Shay, just tell me it’s with Shay!”

Hunk tugged at his collar, glancing away. “... Maybe.”

Lance grinned, wrapping his arms around his friend. “This is your night, dude! Woo her! Remember my advice!”

“Your advice sucks.”

“So then remember  _ not  _ to follow it.”

Hunk slid out of Lance’s arms, heading towards the door. “Thanks, man. Wish me luck!”

“Good luck!” Lance shouted after him as Hunk left. 

_ Why didn’t he tell me he had a date? Especially with Shay? He’s been trying to ask her out for like, a year. _

“You okay?”

Oh, right. Keith was still there, his brows furrowed. That was his default face, just looking confused and disinterested and pissed off. But, he sounded pretty concerned.

“What? Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“Um, you look really sad.”

Lance straightened up, grabbing his backpack again. “I’m not sad, I’m just… confused. If you had been trying to go out with a girl for, like, forever, and you finally got a date with her, wouldn’t you tell your best friend?”

Keith shrugged. “That would never happen, so, I don’t know.”

“Why not? You got the whole ‘bad boy’ thing down, chicks love that.”

Keith just shoots Lance a look (not just any look, an are-you-fucking-kidding-me-you-idiot look), and shrugs again, kneeling down to open up his guitar case.

Lance pursed his lips, folding his arms.

 

5: he  _ really _ hates me

 

Maybe Keith wasn’t the best person to ask for advice, or talk to, or just interact with in general. But he got along so well with Pidge when they talked about nerdy stuff, so what was the issue with talking to Lance?

“So, you like Star Wars?”  _ You sounds like someone’s awkward dad, that’s why he always gives you that look, why do you even try? _

“I guess,” Keith says, picking up his case. 

They fall into another silence and Lance contemplates being swallowed up into the abyss right there.

_ Okay, McClain. You’re a people person, conversation is your thing. Use your charms! There’s gotta be something he wants to talk about. _

“How’s being in the band?” Lance asks the other, just as he’s about to step through the door.

Miraculously, a hint of a smile tugs at his lips as Keith turns his head away. “It’s cool.”

“And what about the EP? Any thoughts?” The cuban boy asks, stepping closer.

“Not really.”  _ Fuck _ , Lance thought they were actually getting somewhere with that.

With a dejected nod, the singer slides by Keith and steps through the door. “Okay, then, see ya.”

_ Why do you even fucking bother? Who cares if you don’t know everything about Keith? Maybe he’s secretly a shitty person who kicks puppies and- _

“I like robbers.”

Lance turns around, on the sidewalk outside of the Garrison. He quirks a brow at Keith, standing in the doorway behind him. “What?”

“The song, robbers, on the EP. I like it.”

Lance exhales, smiling. “Oh, the song. I thought you meant like, burglaries and stuff. I don’t know why you’d mean that, that’s stupid, unless you’re really into being a thief and stuff. I don’t judge, well, I kinda do, how can you not-” Lance catches sight of Keith’s face, which did look less pissed off for a moment, but is now reverting. “I’m sorry, uh, I talk a lot.”

Keith nods, unamused. “I can tell.”

Oh no, they will not fall victim to another awkward silence. “Why do you like robbers?” Lance blurts out, nearly shouting it. 

Keith steps out of the doorway, beginning to walk. He tilts his head in the direction he’s going and after a moment of being unable to read a social cue, Lance follows alongside him. “It’s a good song, it’s… different.”

“What do you mean, different? Like, good or bad different?”

“Neither, it’s just not the kind of song I thought that I’d like.”

Now it was Lance’s turn to knit his brows. “What kind of music do you usually like?”

Keith paused, glancing over to the other. He looked hesitant, then shoved his hands into his pockets and continued to walk. “Rock.”

“Wow, you’re picky, that’s not a broad genre at all,  _ very  _ specific.”

“Okay,  _ classic _ rock.” Lance rolled his eyes, sighing and making sure Keith could hear it. “You can’t just ask someone to narrow down their music taste like that!”

And then, Lance’s heart did a little thing in his chest because,  _ fuck _ , Keith was actually pretty cute. Especially when he was mad, his voice cracks and his shoulders stiffen up. Lance can’t help but crack a smile at the sight.

“Dude, chill, I’m just asking questions.”

Keith looks away, turning his attention back to the sidewalk before them.“Right, sorry.” The two were quiet for a second, but it wasn’t as awkward as before.

“So, classic rock?”

“Yeah, classic rock.”

 

They spoke for some time about their tastes in music, and music in general. It seemed to be the only subject Keith was good at speaking about. Every time they drifted towards another topic, they’d end up right back where they started. But, Lance didn’t mind. In fact, he actually liked talking to Keith.

“And you write all the lyrics?” Keith had asked, later into their walk.

Lance nodded, beaming with pride. “Yep! Well, Pidge and Hunk sometimes give me ideas, but, the actual lyrics are all mine.” He pulled out his phone, opening it to his notes and handing it to Keith. “They’re all under ‘song lyrics.’”

Also, the best part about talking to Keith? He made the singer feel like an  _ actual _ member of Voltron. In the past, if he ever brought up that he was the songwriter, reactions were typically  _ “eh” _ or  _ “what instrument do you play?”  _ To which he’d have to go through the awkward  _ “oh, none, I just sing.” _ But, Keith was actually really interested in his lyrics, and Lance felt  _ great. _

“Yeah, I just write down lyrics all the time, whenever, wherever. Once I have enough little sections, I put them in my notebook. Editing on a phone is just easier, though,” Lance explained.

There was a silence from the other boy, then, “I don’t hate you.”

Lance looked over to Keith, then glanced down at his phone in his hands.  _ “THINGS I KNOW ABT KEITH”  _ was in bold atop the screen. Suddenly, Lance regretted everything ever and wanted to crawl into the manhole that was just a few feet away. They’d call him the manhole-man, and he’d never have to face Keith again.

“Do you think I hate you?”

Lance shook his head vigorously. “No, no, I just- uh, okay, so, I  _ thought _ you hated me, but that was like, an hour ago! Then, we had this whole bonding sesh,” his hands gestured to the two of them. “And now, I don’t think you hate me anymore! Right? Unless, do you?”

Keith’s expression was blank save the curl of his upper lip, giving a pretty good clue as to how he felt. “No, I don’t hate you. Why would you even think that?”

Lance flung his arms out, shrugging (once again, too exaggerated). “Uh, I dunno, maybe it’s because every time I’ve tried to talk to you for the past month you’ve responded in five words or less. Or because the three times, I counted, I’ve asked you to hang out you’ve declined before I could even finish asking? Not to mention that you only talk to Pidge and now, apparently, Hunk? And it’s not really an uncommon thing for people to hate me, like it’s a daily thing! Should I go on?”

Now, he could read Keith’s expression. He looked… embarrassed? No, that was guilt in his eyes, for sure. And then, that guilt was all over Lance’s face as he straightened up and frantically waved his hands.

“But it’s fine! I get it, you’re just not a big talker! It’s okay!”  _ Nice going, asshole, first you think he hates you, then when he says he doesn’t, you give him a reason to. _

“I just… I don’t really talk to people often,” Keith said, the way he bit his lower lip slightly before speaking catching most of Lance’s attention. “I don’t mean to come off like an asshole, okay? I don’t hate you, so this whole list is wrong.”

“The  _ whole _ thing?”

“Yeah,” Keith said, handing the phone back over to Lance. “I’m not a god, chill. I just really like guitar. I don’t travel a lot,” he gestured to his case, which was on his back ( _ how did that not hurt? _ ). “These stickers aren’t mine, I’ve never even been out of the country. I don’t like Pidge more than you, nor do I like Star Wars over Star Trek, they’re incomparable.”

And just like that, Keith Kogane made Lance feel like an idiot. An idiot who keeps tabs and notes on people instead of just  _ talking _ to them, which defeats his purpose of trying to know someone better by blocking that person out instead.

For lack of anything else to say, Lance simply stopped, gesturing to the building behind him. “Um, I live here.” And, once again, trying to make conversation; “Do you live close?”

Keith shook his head. “No, I actually live across town, west side.”

“Seriously? That’s like, really far, man. Why would you walk me all the way here?”

Keith’s response, unsurprisingly, was a shrug. “Like I said, I don’t hate you.”

With that, Keith turned around and walked back in the same direction they came from, and Lance watched his figure, although mostly obscured by the guitar on his back, fade away. 

_ Wow. _

 

* * *

 

Later that night, Lance was in his bed, scribbling in his notebook.

_ They call me the manhole man. _

_ I just don’t feel whole, man. _

_ Because I feel like an idiot, which I am. _

_ And you’re just there looking like,  _ damn.

Not  _ all _ of his lyrics were great.

 

* * *

 

“Where’s the Redbull?”

“That shit’ll stunt your growth, Pidge.”

“Hm, interesting. Never heard that before, what’s also interesting is I don’t give a shit.”

Lance rolled his eyes at Pidge, resting his headphones around his neck. She didn’t seem to care, returning to whatever tech stuff that was happening on her computer and launchpads.

Keith, who after the Almost-Disastrous-Walk-Home incident a few nights ago began to  _ actually _ speak with Lance, chimed in, which was something the band hadn’t quite gotten used to yet. “Lance,” he said, gesturing to what was occurring outside the recording booth. 

Hunk was leaning over the soundboard, his attention (that would usually be on the board) turned to the girl working it. His eyes were all big and soft, like how he looked when he saw a cute animal video or well-made desserts, totally fixated on her. Shay, the aforementioned girl, was  _ beep boop _ ing over on the board (a technical term, according to Lance), explaining to Hunk as she went along.

“Hey! Hunky Hunk!" Lance shouted, to no reply. The door was open, so there was no reason for him to be ignored right now. "Tonka Truck! Fudge Chunk! HUNK!” Lance continued to yell, waving his arms. This, after too long, earned the attention of Hunk, who quickly hurried into the recording booth.

“Sorry, sorry,” he apologized hastily, picking up his bass.

Shay leaned into the mic outside of the booth, gesturing for everyone to put their headphones on. “Okay, guys, we don’t have that much time to record, so try and make it count, okay?”

The group gave a few positive cheers and nods, Keith even gave a thumbs up! (Which was probably not as monumental as Lance thought it was.)

“Alright! Ready?” Shay asked, waiting for another affirming response. “Awesome! Voltron, track one, take one. And… go!”

 

It took all day to record the album (or EP? They never clarified). The group arrived at Balmera Recording Studios at seven in the morning, and left at almost midnight. It was a long, draining day, filled with plenty of caffeine breaks and yawning. One thing that made recording easier was the knowledge that their time was discounted. It helped that their bassist was dating the girl working at the record studio, and this earned them a pretty good deal. However, the catch was that it was only for a 12+ hour session.

It worked, and they got the discount. But, they paid the price of complete exhaustion by the time they were done.

“One last thing before you guys go,” Shay said, just as the group was halfway out the door. The four members simultaneously turned their heads, each of their expressions dull and lazy. “I just need the song titles."

Lance nodded sleepily, pushing past everyone and moving at a snail’s pace to Shay. 

“Just type it in, right on the computer.”

 

_ self titled: an EP by Voltron _

_ 1.  _ __ I’m not Famous [E]  _ _

__ 2.  _ _ _ Vowels (And the Importance of Being Me)  _

_ 3. _ _ The Beach  _

_ 4.  _ _ New Perspective  _

_ 5.  _ _ Robbers  _

_ 6.  _ _ All Over  _

_ 7.  _ _ Algo _

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!!! Thanks sm for reading! Hope yall liked that chapter, I may go in and edit the second part (which was supposed to be like, 700 words longer but I was in a rush to put this out, so keep an eye out for that!
> 
> Also, I don't know what that hole manhole man thing was about. A note moving forward: I don't trust my songwriting skills enough to actually write songs for these. So, yeah, I actually spend days picking the songs to use, seriously that's probably one of the reasons this took forever. There may be quick stanzas that are mine, but otherwise, nope. I also made a youtube playlist in case anyone wants to listen to the songs that'll be in this
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLvbs99ldSn5ZWpMlktK9PwrapzGU1ukRt
> 
> Anyways, as always, comments kudos and criticism are always appreciated and make me so so happy! Thanks so much!
> 
> \- Viv xx


	3. Chapter Two (where it gets gay)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The album (EP?) needs a cover and Lance has a little competition with Keith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I died on you guys for a while there, I'll put some notes at the end to to explain what's up. 
> 
> For now, I just hope you guys enjoy this chapter! Sorry for the wait!

“Hunk, Hunk, to the left!”

“I’m moving to the left!”

“Okay, wait, stay right there!”

“I’m staying right here!”

“Wait, no, move forward!”

“Moving forward!”

“Aaaand…”

“We died.”

Lance groaned, tilting his head back.”We never survive level 36!” He whined, tossing his controller onto the couch.

Hunk looked up from his spot on the floor, folding his arms. “This game is stupid,” he mumbled.

“Yeah,” Lance agreed, pulling himself up from the couch. “Are there any pizza rolls left?” Bending over, he rummaged through the freezer.

“Don’t bother, you’re not gonna find any.”

Lance perked up, looking towards his friend. “But we got a new box yesterday, how could they all be gone?” The freezer was mostly filled with ice cream and whatever frozen treats were discounted at Target. However, the 2-for-1 pizza rolls Lance had scored yesterday were nowhere to be found.

“Maybe if someone hadn’t eaten my poke bowl…” The Samoan boy mumbled

Lance whipped his head around, cocking it to the side. “Really? You ate two boxes of pizza rolls because I ate a container filled with tuna and lettuce?”

“No!” Hunk exclaimed. “I only ate one! You ate the other yesterday.”

“Come on, man! I’ll buy you another one if it matters that much, jeez.”

“It was from that bowl place uptown! I was saving it!”

With a groan, Lance walked past Hunk, shaking his head. “And _I_ was saving those pizza rolls, douchelamp. Now we’re both suffering. Happy?”

“Quite.”

After making a rather rude hand gesture towards Hunk, Lance grabbed his hoodie from the couch, slipping it on. “C’mon, let’s go meet up with Pidge and Keith.”

“And replenish the pizza roll supply.”

Lance chucks a pillow at the other. “Dick.”

 

“So, I got a question,” Lance said, looking over to Hunk, who was scrolling on his phone.

“Shoot,” the other replied, tucking the device away.

“Why didn’t you-” he was cut off by the sudden jarring of the subway train the two were in. Hunk stifled a laugh, grabbing a hold of Lance’s arm to keep him upright. “Thanks, man.” _This is it, just ask him._ “So, uh, why didn’t you tell me you had a date with Shay last week?”

Hunk pressed his lips together, taking his hand back. “I dunno, I just… Figured you’d freak out or something.”

“Freak out?” Lance repeated, quirking a brow.

“It’s stupid, I should’ve just told you.”

“But what do you mean, freak out?”

Hunk was never the best with words, and after years of knowing him, Lance could tell exactly when he was looking for the right ones to say. Hunk would clench a fist a little too tightly and look down, a telltale sign that he had no clue what to say. “I mean, you always get kind of jealous when you see other people in a relationship and you’re single so-”

“You thought I would get jealous?”

“Maybe,” but the forced smile across Hunk’s features said ‘definitely.’ “It was stupid, I should’ve just told you.”

“Yeah, but, it’s cool, man,” Lance said, which caused Hunk to ease, shoulders relaxing. “I get it. But, you can still tell me stuff. Even if you think I’ll get jealous or whatever.”

A smile spread across Hunk’s face as he nodded. “Yeah, totally. Sorry, dude.”

“It’s okay, we cool?” Lance asked, sticking out the universal sign for being cool, a fist. Hunked bumped his.

“Yeah, we cool.”

 

* * *

 

For once, the band didn’t meet inside the rehearsal space, opting for some hipster cafe instead. Perks of living in the city was that every street had a hipster cafe, most of them had free wifi, and there was always plenty of places to sit. Pidge’s favorite was Kerberos Brews, which was a good mix of 9-5 workers just trying to get along and millennials with too much time on their hands. That meant plenty of room and cool chairs, like bean-bags (Lance loved these that hung from the ceiling there). Plus, the coffee wasn’t too bad.

Lance walked in first, a smile spreading across his face as he inhaled the bitter smell of fresh coffee. Hunk followed behind him, with the same expression, except he spotted some freshly made donuts at the counter.

“I’ll grab you a drink and meet you guys,” he said to Lance, heading towards the counter. With a nod, the Cuban boy stepped towards the back area, which was for hanging around. In the corner was Pidge, hunched over her laptop, headphones in as Keith peered over her shoulder, sipping a drink and- _wait,_

_Is his hair in a ponytail?_

A slight turn of his head confirmed, yes, he was wearing a ponytail, and he looked _good_. Lance couldn’t help but imagine how nice he’d look with his bangs pulled back, maybe he could braid his hair…

“Lance!” He was snapped back to reality by a hand on his shoulder, Hunk, who was trying to balance a cupholder of drinks and snacks. “C’mon, man, they’re right over there.”

Lance nodded, walking over to the other two.

“Hey, guys,” Hunk said, plopping down opposite Pidge. She was at a small table, where her laptop took a good amount of the space, but left enough room for Hunk to set his tray down. Lance grabbed the one with the most whipped cream, assuming it was his, and pulled over a chair, straddling it.

“Whatcha workin’ on there?” He asked, pushing her screen down to have a better look.

Instantly, Pidge swatted his hand away and tilted it back up, greeting him with a slight glare. “I’m sending the final songs to Shay, I finished layering everything.”

“It sounds really good,” Keith said, putting down his beverage. Lance saw a tag sticking out from the side- _is he drinking tea?_

“Yeah, but we still need an album cover,” Pidge closed her laptop now, resting her headphones on it.

Hunk groaned, toying with the straw in his drink. “Why can’t we just do what we did last time? We never agree on covers.”

“What did you guys do last time?” Asked Keith, who was _drinking tea! Who the fuck drinks tea anymore?_

Lance, dipping his finger into the whipped cream and licking it, said, “It was a picture of the city at night on a black background, and then it said Voltron. I made it on my phone.” It was hideous, but the only thing they could manage to agree on. Plus, the album ( _is that one an EP too?_ ) did pretty well, so it wasn’t _that_ bad.

“It was heinous. I wanted to die and burn every copy,” Pidge said, snatching one of Hunk’s donuts. If it was anyone else, there probably would have been a riot. But, as put by Hunk, “tiny Pidge” needed it more than he did.

“You always want to do that,” he quipped instead, rolling his eyes.

“True.”

Lance put his hands on the table, straightening up. “Okay, but this time, it can’t be ugly. It’s gotta be cool, but also give a feel for what we’re about. Who we really are.”

“Lance in those stupid sunglasses, Hunk making out with Gordon Ramsay, I’ll flip everyone off, and Keith is shredding the guitar,” Pidge suggested.

“First of all, they’re _clout goggles,_ you gremlin,” Lance spat, pointing a finger towards the smug Pidge. “Second of all, keep everything else. It’s perfect.” That earned a triumphant smile from the girl.

“What if we, like, made it look like a record? But, make it cool somehow?” Hunk asked, and Lance could practically _see_ the gears working in his brain.

“Boring,” Pidge shot him down. “We need something that’s going to catch people’s attention.”

“A shirtless guy.”

Everyone went silent now, their gazes turning to Keith and causing him to shrink down. “What?” He asked, turning his hands upwards. “Always catches my attention…”

Pidge broke the silence with a loud snort, which then caused everyone to break into laughter. This was to the annoyance of some other patrons in the store, especially since Hunk had a loud, bellowing laugh. It made Lance happy just to hear it, but other people just trying to get their morning drink didn’t care for it. Keith was quiet, a mixed look of confusion and panic across his face. _He really needs to stop furrowing his brows so much, he’s gonna get wrinkles._

But, he looked like like a kid who’s being left out a joke, (which is kind of what’s happening, but whatever) and Lance felt pretty bad for him. So, while Pidge cackled between “That’s gay”s, Lance pulled himself together.

“That’s actually a pretty good idea.” Now, it was everyone’s turn to stare at him. But, he did see a small smile tugging at Keith’s lips. “I’m serious. It catches attention. Plus, we could, like, paint ‘Voltron’ on it.”

Hunk nodded, pressing a finger to his lips. Pidge opened up her laptop and started typing away. “Lance,” she said, glancing up from it. “Do you still have body paint?”

He likes music festivals, and he likes letting strangers there paint his chest. Don’t judge.

“Definitely.”

Pidge closed her laptop. “Shirtless guys get a lot of recognition,” Lance doesn’t want to know how she figured that out so fast.

“Okay, but, do we need to hire a model or something? Who’s abs are we gonna use?” Hunk asked, looking around the table.

Simultaneously, both Keith and Lance spoke.

“You can use mine-”

“Mine, duh-”

Both boys stared at each other, then glanced down at the other. Lance felt pretty confident about how he looked shirtless, mostly because he worked hard to specifically look good without a shirt on. Keith was never spotted without a hoodie (seriously, did he own anything else?) so Lance just assumed he had nothing to show off.

Pidge snorted, holding a hand over her mouth. “Sorry, this situation is just too good.”

“Well, I know this rockin’ bod catches the eye of anyone who looks my way, so,” Lance trailed off, folding his arms and delivering his best intimidating look to Keith, who was unphased.

“I mean,” Keith began, looking around at the cafe. “I can’t really pull my shirt off and show y’all, so you can go with Lance.”

_Y’all?_

“Well, maybe we should, you know, _check_?” Hunk asked, nervous gaze flickering from Lance to Keith.

“Like, see who looks better without a shirt?” Lance asked, a smirk tugging at his lips. For some reason, he just _really_ wanted to be better than Keith right now.

Keith shoved his hands in the pockets of his hoodie (why was he always in it if he felt so confident about his abs?) and shrugged. “I don’t really care who you pick, I was just offering-”

Lance cut him off, dismissing him with a wave of his hand. “Let’s do it!”

 

And that’s how they ended up back at _Casa Del Hance_ , Lance and Keith both shirtless in the living room, Pidge wildly snapping pictures with her phone, and Hunk poking Lance’s stomach.

“Hey, buddy,” Lance said, pushing Hunk’s hand away. “It’s solid, no need to test.”

Hunk straightened up, nodding with his nose slightly upturned. They probably should’ve asked Pidge to judge, he took this way too seriously. “Of course.” Hunk cleared his throat. “As the official judge for this hot bod off,” he placed his hands on Keith and Lance’s shoulders. I just want to say both of you have beautiful bodies and you should be very proud of your hard work.”

That was true. Turns out Keith was somewhat of a gym rat, and beneath his hoodie was a torso that could’ve been sculpted by a sexually-frustrated, gay renaissance artist. Lance was lean and slim, with not much visible muscle, but he still looked good. However, Keith had _the V._ That’s right, those two little lines guys get above their waist when they’re really ripped. Keith fucking had it, and Lance couldn’t help but stare.

“Yeah, yeah, we know,” Lance said, rolling his eyes (partially out of annoyance, partially to pull them away from Keith’s chest).

“However, in my unbiased opinion, Keith should be the album cover.”

“Seriously?” Keith asked, brows raising.

Lance crossed to the couch, picking his shirt up and putting it back on. “It was rigged, anyway.”

“What a sore loser,” Pidge said, crossing towards the kitchen.

“Right?” Keith grabbed his shirt off of the coffee table, looking at Lance. Turns out, beneath the hoodie was also a black tank top, which wasn’t too surprising.

“I’m not a sore loser!” Lance snapped, whipping his head around to meet an image of Keith he will never get out of his head. The fact that he looked good shirtless was already established, but he had the most smug expression on his face- lips curled up in a smirk, one brow quirked as he shook his head. It made Lance very pissed off and mildly turned on. _Wait, what?_

“Where the _fuck_ are all the pizza rolls?” Pidge shouted from the kitchen, accompanied by the slam of the freezer door.

“Hm, I dunno, maybe SOMEONE ate all of them,” Lance said, glaring at Hunk. He, of course, was not happy to be blamed for this, and instantly went into Petty Hunk Mode. This is when he paces, speaks with his hands a lot, and complains about everything and everyone.

“Really? You’re gonna blame me? Maybe if someone hadn’t eaten my poke bowl that they _knew_ I was saving-”

“How could I have known you were saving it?”

“There was a post-it on it! That means it’s marked specifically for me!”

“Well I’m sorry I came home mildly baked and was hungry!”

“We have a drawer of cheez-its for the munchies! We do not eat expensive raw fish!”

“And we also do not enact revenge by finishing the pizza roll supply!”

“Oh my god, shut up!” Pidge stood between the two, reaching a hand up to cover both of their mouths. “You’re both idiots, we get it. Go make some popcorn or something, I’m fucking hungry.” Keith chuckled, covering his mouth. His shirt was back on ( _aw man_ ). Pidge plopped down on the couch, and he followed after.

“You’re so petty,” Lance said, still glaring at Hunk as he headed to the kitchen to make some popcorn. Also, to put soap in his eyes to get that image of Keith out of his head.

_Keith is hot, that’s a fact._

He pulled out a bag of popcorn, throwing it in the microwave as he heard the rest of the group chatter in the living room.

_But I don’t even know him. Also a fact._

The muted rhythms of whatever music mixing program Pidge used could be heard, she was always making beats when she was bored.

_So, I can’t catch feelings. Mega fact._

“Lance! Gimme a melody!” She shouted, turning up the volume on the laptop. Waiting for the popcorn to finish, Lance pulled out his phone, searching for some lyrics he had scribbled down earlier (definitely _not_ while thinking about Keith).

“Hold on!” He shouted back, trying to hear the two simple chords Pidge was alternating through. The beat was kind of cute, shouldn’t be too hard to sing along with. The microwave beeped and Lance grabbed the popcorn, walking into the living room.

“Let’s hear this freestyle, Lance,” Keith said, and Lance averted his gaze. _Don’t you dare fucking catch feelings now._

Lance took a breath, waiting for a good moment to come in. “ _Sometimes I feel like I just wanna go back to my old ways. You're telling me I'm silly, ‘it's no fun in the old days,’_ ” he began to sing, glancing up from his phone and tossing the popcorn over to Hunk. “ _I'm such a romantic, I never remember how things truly happened, I guess you're attractive._ ” He didn’t even try to hide the side-eye towards Keith. “ _Or something._

" _Boyfriend" or ‘boy, that's a friend’? It's easy just to pretend That we don't have something real,_ _it's just how we feel._ ”

Pidge continued with the music as Lance vocalized a little bit, now sitting on the couch. Keith had the slightest smile across his lips.

“ _I'm feeling something, right? I wanna be the one you think about at night._ _And I wanna be the one that you would put up a fight for. You know that I adore, that even when you're bored I'd buy you anything and everything I can't afford._ ”

That’s where his lyrics ended, and Pidge noticed, stopping the music.   
“When did you write that, man? I’ve never heard it before,” Hunk asked. Lance simply shrugged, putting his phone down.

“Yeah, it was really good,” said Keith, and for some reason that meant a lot more than it usually did for Lance.

 

 _Okay, maybe just_ some _feelings._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> updating??? frequently??? i dont know her
> 
> For real, I don't really have an excuse for not writing other than the fact that I didn't feel like it. I have this whole fic planned out, but sometimes I sit down at my computer and I literally can't write a thing. Hopefully that's over now, I'm also much happier and I think my mental health is better than it was, which is probably helping.
> 
> Anyways, this chapter is kinda short and mildly rushed, since it's a filler until we get to *cracks knuckles* the plOT. I just wanted to give y'all some pining Lance.
> 
> Song at the end is Flamin' Hot Cheetos by Clairo. As always, the music for this fic can be found at https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLvbs99ldSn5ZWpMlktK9PwrapzGU1ukRt
> 
> So sorry about the wait you guys, but I am back! Thanks for the people who left kudos and comments on the last chapters, they really help me pull through.
> 
> Much love !!!!!! <3 Viv


End file.
